


make the flowers grow

by jackpack



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Temporary Character Death, literally the character death is immediately resolved i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackpack/pseuds/jackpack
Summary: Deathbed confessions get complicated when you don't actually die.
Relationships: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 9
Kudos: 173





	make the flowers grow

**Author's Note:**

> all of this started with me frantically posting about my thoughts about fabriz les mis parallels on twitter and spiraled. thanks so much to danny, who provided so much of the direction and genius for this fic, and lets me holler at them daily about my sad fabriz shit. thank you danny!!!!

It happens in an instant- or, no. It happens in six seconds; it's very precise. Fabian knows the math, just like any adventurer out of diapers. Thirty feet of movement. Hit. Attack. Damage. 

They were already barely on their feet; they'd been fighting for what felt like hours, at that point. Round after round, and they've been doing so well. Underlings have been falling at their feet and they're so  _ close _ to what they need, so close, and- they were out of combat. Fabian could've sworn they were out of combat. 

It's one shot, and it cracks through the air straight for Riz's chest. 

Fabian doesn't get there until he hits the ground. 

"Fuck." It's whispered and shouted, and there's so much blood, everywhere, spreading dark across the gray of Riz's waistcoat, and try as he might-  _ medicine check, failed, failed, always failed when he needs it _ \- he can't get it to stop. "You're going to be alright- the Ball, the Ball you're going to be fine."

Kristen is in the other room. Kristen might not have seen them go this way- and, god, even if she had, Kristen might not be there in time. One minute. It's just one minute. 

Riz seems to do this same math in his head. Always quick, the Ball, always thinking faster than everyone else. His hand comes up over Fabian's, and his mouth works, trying to get something out. "Easy, the Ball, easy."

"I don't think she's gonna be able to-" Riz's breath is a rattle, a wheezing inhale. Fabian resolutely doesn't think death rattle. "Cross all that distance."

"She will." She has to. There's blood on Fabian's hands now, Riz's blood on his hands. "She will, the Ball-"

"I'm okay." Fabian almost laughs when he says it. The most obvious lie Riz had ever told. "I don't- it's not-"

"You're  _ bleeding _ , the Ball." Fabian means it to be gentle, but the wires get crossed somewhere in the fear, and it comes out biting. "Shut up."

"Riz?"

It's Fig's voice, but Fabian can see the feet- it's Gorgug, too, and Adaine and not Kristen, where's  _ Kristen- _

"She's- up the stairs." Riz is still talking, damn him, still wheezing out his words a mile a minute. "And that's- it's more than-"

"Shut  _ up _ !" It's far more forceful than Fabian means it, and he can hear a little gasp as Adaine flinches, sees Fig cut short a move to shift down. 

"No." Stubborn. Very the Ball, and so not the time. "No, I gotta- you gotta let me finish."

"You can finish once we're out of here." Fabian cuts his gaze to Fig, saying do something without speaking. She just shakes her head, mouth agape. No healing words come. Gorgug looks punch drunk, coming out of a rage with a sway, and Adaine- Adaine looks  _ ill _ , standing stock still, chest heaving as she obviously tries to fight off panic. 

The Ball is still bleeding in Fabian's arms. Kristen isn't there. Where is Kristen? 

"I love you."

It's mumbled, said with such effort that it cracks something in Fabian's chest as he draws his gaze back to Riz, who is staring up at him with such an intense focus, slitted pupils blow wide. "We love you, too, the Ball," Fabian huffs, because huffing is easier. "Don't go getting soft in me."

"No," Riz says, with force that seems to hurt and nearly makes Fabian shush him again. "No, Fabian, it's-  _ you _ ."

"Yes, the Ball, of course it's me, I'm right-" 'Here' dies on Fabian's lips, both because that's not what Riz meant, that's not what Riz meant, and he keeps talking even as Fabian's ears start to ring like another shot went off. It hadn't. 

"I- you were so cool." Riz says it with reverence, like he always does, in a way that fills Fabian's chest with warmth. He has no idea where it comes from, that reverence, the way Riz seems to think the world of him no matter how many times he falls, fails, makes an ass of himself. "And you're amazing, you are, and I was so lucky to just to be your friend, and- who wouldn't, right, who wouldn't fall in love with you?"

And it's another hitched breath above him that tells Fabian they still have an audience- an audience without Kristen, one minute is now half that, _ where is Kristen- _

"The Ball," he gets out, and  _ now _ it's soft,  _ now _ it's broken. "Riz."

"I love you." Riz is smiling, and somehow that's worse, that's worse than him being sad, or scared, because it feels like goodbye in the spaces between, in the way Riz's hand comes up to hold his face, thumb brushing across his cheek with so much  _ care _ . "I really do, man, I really do. There's so much to love."

Fabian's jaw works, his mouth is open, but there's nothing coming out but a sob because what does he say? What can he say, when he can't do anything but sit here and hold his best friend, and there's blood on his hand, Riz's blood on his hand, and--

He kisses him. Seacasters have always been men of action, and if there were ever a time for action, it was now. 

There's no grace in kissing Riz; he's moderately certain he cuts his lip on the sharp edge of on of his teeth, but he doesn't care in the slightest. His stomach is falling, and his heart is soaring, and he feels like he's being ripped apart in two different directions. 

He doesn't pull away until Riz's hand falls limply away from his face. When he does, his eyes have gone glassy and unfocused, and his chest is no longer heaving for breath. 

"Am I- interrupting something?"

Kristen's voice- finally- breaks through, as thirty seconds become a ten count, and it seems to take her a second to note the blood, and another to jump into action. Moonlight swirls, and Fabian almost laughs again when Riz sits up in his arms, spluttering for breath. Another sob comes out instead, and he's pulling Riz to his chest and not letting go- and, that spawns everyone else, a hiccuping sob coming from Adaine as she falls to her knees on his other side, and then Fig and Gorgug and Kristen in succession. 

They stay there like that, for a long moment, all together and heaving, grieving and relieved in turns because  _ Riz just died, Riz just died, how many times is one of them going to have to die? _ but, it's Riz that breaks through after not too long. "I- we should. Probably get out of here." 

Fabian exhales. "We- probably should."

He offers Riz a hand up, when they all part. Riz doesn't take it. 

They get outside, thankfully, with what they were looking for- Kristen had snagged it- and without more trouble. Fabian feels a bit like he's swimming. There's- going to be a conversation to be had, once they were home. He'll let Riz have it at his office, of course- home turf, park the Hangman out front, and-

"Shotgun."

Riz is fast, practically launching himself into the front seat of the Hangvan before any of the rest of them can say a word. "I, ah- my mom's gonna be-"

"No, yeah." Gorgug's moving past Fabian, who can't get himself to move from the spot, eyes glued to the side of Riz's head as he stares resolutely forward. "I'll, ah. Dropping everyone off at home?"

"I'll- see you all tomorrow, then." Long day. Long day, Fabian reasoned. It was- reasonable, that Riz would want some rest. Tomorrow. They'd talk tomorrow. 

He rides the Hangman home alone. 

* * *

Riz is still awake. 

It's two in the morning and he's staring up at the ceiling- and, normally, that wouldn't be a surprise, but, tonight, he'd been trying to sleep. Sleeping is less thinking, and a good, solid excuse to put off resisting the urge to check his crystal ever five seconds. 

He died today, and he's not even worried about  _ that _ . 

No- no, instead his stomach is in knots over a  _ stupid  _ slip- was it a slip? Not really, not really; it was a  _ secret _ , and he’d intended to keep it that way well into the grave, but it wasn’t an  _ oopsie daisy, sorry about that  _ slip. It wasn’t something he could shake off, pretend was just the blood loss, and-  _ god _ , it wasn’t even something he could play off like only he and Fabian knew.  _ Everyone _ knew. He’d felt Gorgug’s gaze flicking to him in the front seat the whole ride home, had heard Adaine and Fig sushing Kristen in the back seat when she piped up to break the tension with a “ _ So, you know that thing about how gay kids all hang out together before they know they’re gay? _ ” 

The joke lightened the mood at least a bit, and- everything might’ve been cracked and frayed, but at the very least, Riz knew he’d have his friends. 

Most of his friends. 

He’s been resolutely not checking his crystal since he’d gotten home and crawled into bed, but that hasn’t stopped him from keeping it upturned beside his pillow. It’s been mostly, blissfully dormant, and he’s almost closed his eyes somewhere around two am when it lights the spot on the ceiling that he’s been staring at blue. 

He inhales, and turns over to check it. 

It’s Fabian. Of course it’s Fabian. He couldn’t get away with it not being Fabian. 

**Fabian !!!!!!**

the ball we definitely need to like   
talk    
about what the hell that was about there 

Riz just stares. Fabian’s right, of course; they need to talk about it, but what can he  _ say _ ? He’s not sorry, and he wasn’t kidding, or confused, and he’s not going to take it back. Even if that’s the easy way to fix this all, maybe, he can’t make himself do it. He meant it, and he didn’t want Fabian to think he hadn’t more than he’s terrified of the fact that Fabian knows that he  _ does _ . 

He starts typing. 

_ I’m really s _

He deletes that. Tries again. 

_ I didn’t think I was going to _ _  
_ _ I never meant to  _ _  
_ _ It doesn’t have to  _

Deleted, one after the other. He hopes Fabian’s not watching him type, and knows that he probably is. It’s as humiliating as it is terrifying; this is why he didn’t  _ tell _ people things about himself, it always ended like this, feeling like he was being watched. 

He puts his crystal down after ten minutes of typing, no message sent, and turns it off for good measure before he turns back over to stare at the ceiling. 

He doesn’t get his four hours. 

* * *

The Ball is ignoring him. 

That much was plain in the first place; it’s like Bastion City nightmares all over again, the five, ten, fifteen minutes Fabian first waits, staring at the sent indicator on his message, waiting for Riz’s three dots to reappear. They never do. 

So, he waits.

He gives Riz the next day; it’s Saturday, and the guy just  _ died,  _ so. Massive confession notwithstanding, he gets one day amnesty to recover. A long, long rest. Fabian can give him that. He’s expecting the Ball will break and text him sometime in the evening- or, more likely in the middle of the damned night, who was Fabian kidding? So, he’d just- stay up, keep the Hangman ready to scoot over to Strongtower or the office. 

The Ball does not text him. 

So, Sunday. Maybe he had slept Saturday away, gotten some rest-  _ he hadn’t, of course he hadn’t, it’s the Ball we’re talking about here-  _ and he’d wake up Sunday morning, call Fabian, and they could work this whole thing out.

The Ball does not call him. 

Monday, then. 

It’s Monday, and- school. Even with all performing at going rogue, the Ball wasn’t one to skip school. It was usually the bane of Fabian’s existence, when he just wanted to skip class with someone and head down to the docks and entice the Ball into skipping those rocks he’s always seemed so gung-ho about. Today, though, he’s counting on it, counting on Riz to walk up the front steps, counting on him to be ten minutes early to his first class of the day, counting on him to be sitting in his spot with the rest of the Bad Kids during lunch. 

The Ball is- as Monday ticks to Tuesday, ticks to Wednesday- very clearly  _ avoiding  _ him. 

And that’s just a punch to the gut, because it’s- him, it’s  _ him _ . His best friend! The Ball is his best friend, and his best friend just told him he loved him, or- no. No, if it was just  _ that _ , Fabian was sure they would’ve handled it by now. A love confession is a love confession, but a  _ deathbed _ love confession, words Fabian can now be at least moderately certain the Ball never meant to see the other side of, probably was never going to tell him in the first place. 

It’s that last bit that gets to him, gets under his skin, wraps the hurt in his chest in  _ anger _ instead. Makes him peel the Hangman out of the parking lot at Aguefort midday on Wednesday, and peel up the coast. 

If the Ball doesn’t want to see him? Fine. He won’t. 

* * *

Avoiding Fabian is- going.

Riz wants to say it’s ‘going well’, but he’s moderately certain that, judging by the hole in his chest every time he has to duck behind a plant or a student, or into a side hallway or locker that ‘going well’ is a phrase that one can’t really use to describe the action of avoiding your best friend like the plague. 

It’s the coward’s way out, avoiding Fabian in the first place- and, rogue he may be, Riz is very rarely the type not to face fear head on when the world demands it. This is different from staring down a dragon, though, different even from staring down his own worst fears in the forest- or. Well. It might not actually be so different from that last one.  _ Why do you think they keep you around, Riz Gukgak?  _

He doesn’t want to find out. He can’t find out. Especially not with Fabian, not with this. 

He hasn’t even turned his crystal on for fear of texts or calls piling up, which is probably why he’s surprised when someone knocks on the door. There hadn’t been a buzz, and there’s a split second of dropping fear in his stomach that he’s going to just have to sit here and pretend he’s not on the other side of the door before he hears Adaine say, “If you don’t open the door, I’m just going to Misty Step to the other side.” 

Not Fabian, then, which is a relief, but-  _ god _ . Adaine was probably who the other Bad Kids elected would be the one to deal with him, because they were all  _ there _ , and they  _ saw _ , and they  _ know _ , and-- 

Riz has got one leg out of the window, ready to make his escape, when Adaine Misty Steps through. 

She looks at him, one eyebrow raised to her hairline. He looks back. “Riz,” she says, and that’s just about all it takes for him to sigh and step back. 

“Can we pretend you’re here for a normal reason?” 

Adaine opens her mouth to respond, and then seems to catch something on him that makes her close it, and take a moment. She sighs. “Yeah,” she finally settles on, tone much softer than when she said his name, moving to sit on her normal spot on the rug. “We can.” 

Tension drains from Riz’s shoulders, and he moves to sit with her- and, for a little bit, it’s just  _ normal _ . It’s him and Adaine on the rug, half doing homework, half going over case details, and a little bit just bullshitting. It fills a little bit of the hole that fear had gnawed through Riz’s chest, and it settles him. Things could still be normal; the world wasn’t falling down around him, even if it felt like it. 

The sun’s starting to go down, and there’s a lull where he finally blurts, almost despite himself, “Do you think he’s ever gonna wanna see me again?” 

Adaine frowns and puts her pen down. “He hasn’t tried to talk to you yet?” 

Riz shrugs. “He texted me, night of?” 

“And?” Adaine asks, and when Riz doesn’t answer, her frown only creases more. “Tell me you texted him back.” 

“I  _ tried _ ,” Riz says. “It’s- I just. What do you even  _ say _ , Adaine? I’m not-  _ sorry _ that I said it, and I  _ meant _ it, and I just- I didn’t think I’d have to-” 

“Deal with it,” Adaiane says, heaving a sigh. “You didn’t think you’d have to deal with the aftermath.” 

Riz physically cringes a bit, at the sound of that. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.” 

“That,” Adaine says crisply. “Would be because it’s  _ pretty fucking bad _ , Riz.”

“I  _ know _ !” Riz flops back on the rug and stares up at the ceiling of his office. Adaine shifts to follow suit. “I just- I meant it. I meant it, and I can’t… take it back, and I don’t _ want  _ to take it back, but I also can’t-  _ face _ him because he’s- I mean, I know he’s not gonna be a  _ dick _ about it, not really, but there’s… I don’t think there’s any going back to normal, from this. And I don’t know what to do, if we can’t go back to normal.” 

“Maybe there’ll be a new normal,” Adaine says, soft. “And maybe it’ll be- better. Being able to just… breathe, and not have to hide it anymore.” 

Riz takes that thought for a long moment, rolls it around in his head until it settles, and shoves some of the weightier thoughts away. “You’re… probably right.” 

He doesn’t have to turn his head to know Adaine’s smiling. “I know.” Her hand finds his on the rug, and gives it a squeeze. “You said you had some theories about when those necromancers were going to try and pull their next ritual?” 

“Right.” Riz shoots up at the reminder of what they’d been talking about before, and scoots across the carpet to start going through case boxes again. “So, I remembered something that one said about a shipment--” 

* * *

Ragh is very obviously surprised when Fabian turns up at his place, but he lets him in anyway. It's pretty clear, early on, that he knows something’s up- surprisingly perceptive, for Ragh- but, he at least lets Fabian have a few hours of working out the curdled rage in his chest on tackles and passes, working out until he's too exhausted to let the scream trapped in his chest out. 

“Something up with the Ball?” 

Fabian nearly chokes on his own tongue at the question. “I beg your- Christ, Ragh, what?” 

“Something’s up with the Ball.” It’s not a question this time, it’s a fact, paired with a nod far more sage than Ragh has any right to be. 

“Fuck off.” It comes out harsher than Fabian means it to; he wants to brush it off, play like of  _ course _ , nothing could  _ possibly  _ be wrong, and if there was something wrong, the Ball had absolutely nothing to do with it. “Why would you think that?” 

“Not that I’m not, like, fucking  _ pumped _ to see you, dude,” Ragh says, in that slow, kind way he picks up when he’s Talking, capital T. “But, like. You’re obviously going through some shit, and… I’m not usually your first stop, with that?” 

“I’m not-” Fabian doesn’t even get to say  _ going through anything _ before the look Ragh gives him snaps his jaw shut. They just stare at each other for a long moment until the fight goes out of Fabian’s shoulders, and he kicks idly at the bloodrush ball in front of them. “Fine. Yes, something’s up with Riz.” 

Ragh hums. “You two, like… fighting, or something?” 

“Yes,” Fabian says, and then, a moment later, “No. I don’t- to be fighting, I suppose we’d have to be  _ talking _ .” 

“You’re not talking?” Ragh lets out a hiss of air through his teeth. “Harsh, dude. What happened, were you fighting before?” 

“No.” Fabian flops to the grass and pulls his knees to his chest. “It’s- we were- he told me he  _ loved me _ .” 

There’s a long, quiet pause- a pause in which Fabian, belatedly, remembers freshman year, and. “I- ah. We don’t have to talk about this.”

“Nah, man,” Ragh sighs, joining Fabian on the grass. “I mean- you definitely came to the expert, right?”

“It’s not- it didn’t just… come up, you know?” Fabian feels like he has to clarify. “If it’d come up in just… a conversation, or if he’d confessed just- at random, pulled aside even, I wouldn’t… I think it would’ve been fine. We’d be fine. Riz is my best friend- no offense, obviously-” 

Ragh shrugs. “None taken.” 

“- And, I don’t… _ resent  _ him, or hate him for it, or anything like that. I’m… fine with it.” ‘Fine with it’ didn’t quite fit right, though; problems for later. One struggle at time. “But, it’s- the  _ way _ he did it, that’s the problem.” 

“Did he do it in front of a bunch of people, or something?” Ragh asks. “That doesn’t seem his style.” 

“No, it’s- well, he sort of did, but that- he couldn’t have controlled that part, in the moment,” Fabian said. “We were- fighting, like. Battle fighting.”

“Heat of the moment,” Ragh says, seemingly impressed. “Kinda baller.” 

“Less baller that he was bleeding out in my arms,” Fabian says. “But, I suppose that would get points for flair. Dramatic, although I’m moderately certain Riz didn’t anticipate taking a bullet, in the moment.” 

“Oh,” Ragh says. “Shit. That’s- okay, yeah. So, like-” 

“Deathbed,” Fabian says, and he hates it, both for what it means, and because it means he has to face the fact once again that  _ Riz could’ve died _ . That could’ve been it, the end of all things, and what would he have to show for it? A rotting feeling in his chest, and words he had never been supposed to hear? “He didn’t think Kristen was going to show up in time, and he- I think it’s been for a long time, if I’m- I don’t  _ know _ . Like I said, we haven’t exactly been on speaking terms to discuss it. But, he had all this  _ time _ , and he never  _ said  _ anything.” 

“Real talk?” Ragh says, eyes downcast as he picks at a blade of grass. “It’s- fucking terrifying, man, being in love with your best friend.” 

“Yes but I’m-”  _ Not Dane,  _ Fabian doesn’t say, because he has  _ tact. _ “- Not a  _ total _ asshole, he should know he can talk to me. We’ve been friends since literally the first day we met.”

“That’s the point, man,” Ragh says, looking at him, now. “You think Dane was, like, always a dick to me? No. We were best friends- and, he was-- a real fucking asshole in the end, yeah, and you’re  _ not _ , but it’s still… there’s still always that looming thought of, like, ‘what if i fuck it up?’ ‘What if I say this, and nothing can go back to normal, what if I make things weird,’ you know? And- sometimes, the people mean- way too much to you to ever want to fuck that up. Dude probably… did the math, thought that the risk of losing you didn’t outweigh the relief of telling you.” 

“That’s-” An airtight point, probably, if Fabian took the time to look at it. He doesn’t want to, though, doesn’t want to think about how  _ scared _ Riz must’ve been, doesn’t want to go back through his mind and try to pinpoint any moment where Riz might’ve been thinking their friendship was something he could lose. “He was just going to  _ leave _ me with it, though,” he pivots to, instead. 

“And that’s- I mean, no… cutting that one, it sucks,” Ragh says. Understatement, really, but true all the same. 

“And what was I supposed to do with that?” Fabian barrels on, the last, tired tendril of anger he can muster rearing up in his chest, making his ribs ache. “Like- if Riz had  _ died _ then, and he’d just- left me with that, what was I supposed to do? Just… go through the rest of my life knowing it, and never getting the chance to...” To what? Say it back? Did he  _ want  _ to say it back-  _ does _ want to say it back? He’d- kissed him, yes, but Fabian couldn’t pull apart every feeling that had gone into that action if you were to give him a decade. It had just… felt  _ right _ , felt like it was the only possible answer, at the time. 

Why? 

“To?” Ragh pipes up, waiting for Fabian to finish his sentence. 

“How was I supposed to feel?” he asks instead. Another thing he’ll have to go back to, later. “How was I supposed to just- keep going on, knowing that I could’ve- what was  _ Riz _ going to do, just… go through life  _ loving  _ me, and never saying?” 

“Maybe,” Ragh says. “Maybe not. That’s… I don’t know, dude, and I… honestly bet he doesn’t, either.” 

“Riz knows  _ everything _ ,” Fabian says, and it’s- not necessarily true, but. It feels like it, some days, like all he has to do is turn to Riz for answers and he’ll have them, spill every solution at a mile a minute and make Fabian feel like he’s grounded again. 

“Can’t really change how it happened, now.” Ragh say, after another few moments of silence. “What’re you gonna do about it?” 

“If I can get him to stop  _ avoiding _ me,” Fabian says. “I’m… I don’t know,” he admits, after a beat. “We’re going to… talk about it, obviously.” 

Ragh hums. “What kinda talk? The, like, ‘I care about you but you’re my best bro and that’s it’- talk?” 

“I-”  _ Don’t know _ , Fabian almost says, but- “No, not… not that one, I think. I don’t… I mean, I don’t- know that I can say I’m in  _ love _ with him, he’s  _ Riz _ .” 

“And?” Ragh asks, and it’s a simple question, really.  _ And, so what? Why not? _

Why not? 

“He’s my best friend,” Fabian tries, and that’s nothing. People fall in love with their best friends all the time- case and point, the reason he was here right now. Next one. “He’s- I don’t-” Like guys, but, was  _ that _ true? No, probably not, so. Try again. “I can’t just-” But  _ why not _ ? 

“You could,” Ragh answers for him, and it probably shouldn’t feel like the revelation that it does. It’s a wave hitting Fabian square in the chest, a mean right hook that leaves him reeling. “If you wanted to.”

“If I wanted to,” he echoes, punch drunk. 

“Think about it, man.” Ragh claps a hand on his shoulder, and pushes himself to his feet. “You staying tonight?” 

“Probably,” Fabian says. 

“Dope.” Ragh nods back towards his apartment building. “I’ve got a pullout, and we can order pizza, or something.” 

Fabian doesn’t sleep again, that night, but- at the very least, he feels less like he’s adrift. 

_ Why not? You could _ . 

* * *

“The Ball.”

Riz nearly jumps a straight foot hearing Fabian’s voice behind him, and- god. No way out; it’s the end of the day, the beginning hours of the weekend, and he’s boxed in by lockers on one side, and crowded hallways on the other. He could try to run, stealth away and blend into the crowd and hope Fabian wouldn’t look, but- 

But, he can’t run forever. 

So, instead, he turns, holding his briefcase in front of him like a shield- the same briefcase Fabian gave him years ago, and doesn’t  _ that _ feel like glass in his mouth, just a little. “Fabian.” He tries to match his tone, cool and even, and misses by a mile. 

“Busy?” Fabian asks, and he could say ‘yes.’ Technically-  _ technically _ , Riz is always busy; there’s always something he’s looking into, something that needs tending to, some little bit of school work, or studying, or something he could be doing that wasn’t having his heart (probably very politely) stomped to dust. 

“No,” he says instead. “Nah, I’ve… got the afternoon clear.” 

“Good,” Fabian says, and flashes a smile that feels- uneven, and makes Riz feel even moreso. He didn’t like it, seeing Fabian unsure, off kilter. He hates that  _ he’s _ probably the reason for it. “Care to take a ride?” 

There are so,  _ so _ many alarm bells going off in Riz’s head, even as he answers. “Yeah, man, for sure. Totally.” 

He fires off a quick text to Adaine on the short, tense walk out of the school and over to the Hangman-  _ Going to talk to Fabian. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow I have started over in the woods somewhere.-  _ and manages to nearly calm his racing pulse when Fabian gets on, and gestures for him to follow suit, and just sends it back up again. 

“You’ve ridden the Hangman before, the Ball,” Fabian says when he’s apparently been standing there a bit too long. “I trust you haven’t forgotten. Come on, up.”

“Right!” Riz doesn’t need to be told twice- mostly because he’s scared that, if he  _ does _ , then Fabian’s just going to ride off without him, and it’ll be the last he sees of him. He climbs up like he normally does, and- stop just short, when he reaches for Fabian’s waist. 

“You’re going to fall if you don’t hold on.” Fabian’s reaching back before Riz can even open his mouth to reply, and positioning his hands for him, pulling him in and settling his arms around his middle. Riz has done this a million times, over the years. It never stops feeling this intimate. 

He’s got his eyes closed for most of the ride, Elmville ripping past them in a way he’s intimately familiar with, by now. He doesn’t need to be looking to know where they’re going; the way the air changes as they get closer to the river tells him, and he’s not at all surprised when the hum of the Hangman dies down, and he opens his eyes to find them near the downtown docks. 

He wishes he hadn’t opened his eyes, wishes that Fabian had kept driving just a little longer, so he could hold onto the illusion that this might not be the last time he’d get to be holding onto him like this. 

He hops off anyway. No way back, just forward. 

They’re silent as they walk down the dock, silent as they sit at the edge, legs dangling over the river. A decent exit, something in the back of Riz’s mind says. If things get too painfully awkward, he can hop in and swim downstream. 

“I wish you would’ve told me.” 

Riz flinches at the words, but they’re fair. “I’m--”

“I get why you didn’t,” Fabian pushes on, seemingly cutting him off before he can apologize. “Or- I think I do, anyway. I know that it- that you must’ve been… scared, that you thought-” 

“Does it matter, what I thought?” Riz cuts in, aiming for joking, light, something they can brush aside and move on from. 

Fabian’s gaze immediately snaps from the horizon to Riz, and he almost regrets speaking up from the intensity of his gaze, the weight behind it. “Of course it matters, Riz,” he says. “It’s  _ always _ mattered.” 

“Oh.” Riz blinks, and resists the urge to wet his suddenly dry lips. “Okay, then.” 

“I wish you would’ve told me,” Fabian says again, still looking at him. “Is the point. I wish you would’ve told me sooner, and not- god, the Ball,  _ absolutely _ never wait until you’re on your  _ deathbed _ to tell me something like that ever again. Any other time. Could break into my house in the middle of the night and wake me from a dead sleep to tell me, if you need to, just-” Fabian sucks in a breath, and Riz aches at the way his voice still wavers despite the reinforcement and reminds him so clearly that they’re just fucking  _ kids  _ as much as they are or ever were heroes, and sometimes, things just  _ hurt _ . “Plan on sticking around, after.” 

“I’m sorry,” Riz says, and quickly clarifies: “For the- dying, and the timing, not the- I meant it, what I said. All of it. You’re amazing, and I- of course I- feel that way.” 

“Love me,” Fabian says, the bolder among them again. It’s one of the things Riz admires about him, how he pushes.    
  


“Yeah,” he says. “Of course I love you, man.” 

Fabian laughs. There’s no derision to it, nothing hurtful in the single sharp bark, but it still hurts a bit. “You make it sound so easy.” 

“It is,” Riz says, and that’s honest. “It’s… the easiest thing in the world. There’s no dots to connect, nothing to pull apart or put together. No reason to analyze it. You’re just you, and I love you.” 

“You’ve always been quicker to figure things out than me, I think,” Fabian says. His gaze flicks down to the dark, worn wood of the dock before it shifts back to the horizon for a moment. His hand reaches out, and stops Riz’s heart when it curls over his own where it’s been nervously tracing the grain of one board. “So, I’m willing to- give you that you got there before I did.” 

“You’re-” Riz is about to make some comment on Fabian being pretty quick in his own right when the fullness of that statement hits him. “I… getting where?” 

“To love,” Fabian says, and Riz feels like he must’ve fallen into the river with the way his head is swimming. “But, you must know, the Ball, I’m always very quick to catch up.” 

“I- don’t-” Riz only manages to get two words out before his brain short circuits, and he’s just sort of spitting up sounds. “What?” 

“It did- I mean, it took me everything short of a hit over the head to… get there, in the end,” Fabian says, as if  _ any _ of this has sunk in for Riz yet, as if he’s not stuck on the step three back where he tries to figure out if he’s dreaming, or if this is some cruel joke a shapeshifter or illusionist of some variety is playing on him just to drown him in the river, or what. “But- I thought it over, really, and- I think I do. Or- no, I  _ think _ I have for quite a bit, but I  _ know _ I do, now.”    
  


Riz feels like he’s going to vibrate into a million pieces. “You what?” 

“I  _ love you _ , the Ball, for fuck’s sake, keep  _ up _ ,” Fabian says, and then seems to backtrack. “Wait, that was- supposed to come out a bit more romantic, let me do that again.” 

“No take backs,” Riz says, awed, and- for lack of a better word, and any remaining grace- launches himself at Fabian before he can reply.

It’s a far better kiss than their first one, because no one’s crying or bleeding out- although, it does lose points for the fact that the impact of a somewhat full grown goblin straight to Fabian’s chest did send the both of them off the dock and into the water, so it is  _ much _ wetter. The angle isn’t much better, either, and there’s bumping heads, bumping teeth, water up Riz’s nose, and he feels so light he can’t bring himself to care for a  _ second _ . 

“You need to  _ warn me  _ when you’re going to  _ do that _ ,” Fabian says when they come up for air, breathless- half from laughter, half from the kiss, and just a little bit from the impact. 

“Next time,” Riz says, much the same. “If you want there to be a next time?” 

“I’ll be horrifically sad if there’s not a next time, the Ball,” Fabian says. “I’ll simply waste away- I confess to you, and you kiss me once only to leave me adrift for the rest of my life? Cruel.” 

Riz just splashes him in response, and gets his head dunked underwater for his troubles. It’s the happiest he’s ever been to have wet socks, when they finally pull themselves back up to the dock, and make for Seacaster Manor. 

They hold hands while they walk, the Hangman rumbling behind them and the afternoon sun in their faces. The angles’ a little off, with the height- but, Riz knows they’ll figure it out. They’ve got time. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @scootbian if you, too, would like to scream about dimension 20!


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